


A million lights above you

by foundthesun



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Domestic, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Flashbacks, Idiots in Love, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, Mutual Pining, POV Aziraphale (Good Omens), Stargazing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-11
Updated: 2019-07-11
Packaged: 2020-06-26 10:19:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19766158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foundthesun/pseuds/foundthesun
Summary: Aziraphale uncovers a surprising book in Crowley's flat.He could've never even begun to guess the significance of the find.





	A million lights above you

Aziraphale hadn't meant to be nosy.

In all fairness to him, in fact, Crowley had given express him the run of his flat. There was no sneaking into rooms he wasn’t supposed to when no room had ever been pointed out as _off limits_. With Crowley seemingly asleep for the night and his tendency to stay awake ever present, Aziraphale found himself in the position of being too antsy to lay about for once. Opting to lean into his natural curiosity seemed to be a _perfect_ solution to the problem.

He hadn’t planned on being gone long, even. The thing was this, if he were honest: he’d really only just begun to get used to the stark, minimalist approach Crowley seemed to favor despite nearly a year of being together, especially when they seemed to more often than not default to the angel's domicile. He knew he could continue to feel a bit like a stranger there, but more and more he felt like he ought to try to get to know the surroundings better.

First, however, he allowed himself an indulgence, pausing at his plants. The leaves, familiar with him at that point, extended out to him instead of quaked with fear. He smiled as he let his fingertips brush against them comfortingly as he walked, murmuring soft encouragement he would never dare to do when Crowley was in earshot. Beyond them were the rooms he hadn't really bothered ever going into yet, and they were both his destination that night.

The room to the right was where he was always certain Crowley hid away his ‘misbehaving’ plants from the prying senses of the ones he was threatening. Aziraphale had had a hunch his temper with his foliage had always been all bluster, but he hadn’t the proof. The room gave him an ample amount: looking in, he found what was practically an extension of his larger collection in there. Closer inspection revealed the imperfections that landed them there in the first place, yet they were whole and seemingly being nursed back to their full, healthy state in a room that had a window that gave them all more than enough sunlight. He knew better than to bring it up with the demon, but the sight of it all made him smile.

Then there was the other room. It'd been waved off before by Crowley as a place for what little storage he had, but he took a look anyway, just to see. What struck him first as he wandered in was just how neat and tidy compared to the controlled chaos his own bookshop’s storage was, everything in perfectly designated areas for ease of finding what he needed. While the area didn't necessarily seem to hold anything of note, he still poked around, spotting various gardening supplies and a box or two he didn't think he had a right to open. It wasn't until his gaze fell on the table in the room, which had scattered stacks of random papers and items on it, that he found something that grabbed his attention immediately.

A book. A rather large one, at that.

Drawing closer, a single look at the title ( _The Extremely Big Book of Astronomy_ , which was a bit on the nose, if you asked him) gave him more than enough of a hint of what to expect out of the tome. He wondered, briefly, if it’d been one _he_ accidentally left behind, as it certainly wasn’t the first time he brought something over from his shop. He _knew_ his books, though, and he was sure if it were one of his that he liked enough to take over, he'd remember it at least _somewhat_. Carefully picking it up, he flipped it open to an early page, finding himself staring down at a glossy picture of Mars. No surprises there - celestial pictures and summaries, as expected.

The _surprising_ thing was he had the book at all, for how often Crowley liked to remind him how he didn't read. Flipping through a few more pages, he was engrossed enough in the subject matter that he hadn’t realized he wasn’t alone until the book was abruptly snatched from him. His gaze snapped up to find Crowley standing there, golden eyes glowing slightly in the dim light of the room, his expression inscrutable. It wasn’t a good one, whatever it was, sharp to the point he was glaring.

“Ah! C-Crowley, you startled me,” he stammered, eyebrows furrowing in confusion the look he was getting. “I was just –“

“ _Snooping_ ,” Crowley finished, flatly, and Aziraphale felt a sinking feeling in his stomach he'd just done something very wrong.

“That’s not quite – well, yes, I suppose, but you said I…could,” he reminded, weakly, feeling every bit like he’d been caught despite truly not meaning anything by what he'd done. He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself before he kept speaking. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be rude. You know how I am with books. A – and that one is quite _lovely_! I hadn’t realized you had an interest. You should’ve told me, I have a few books at the shop that might be -”

Crowley had the book held close to his chest as the angel continued to nervously ramble. The words weren’t doing what he hoped, as instead of it being viewed as an olive branch – it was interesting, and it was _fine_ he was interested! – the demon just looked increasingly weary. He finally held up a hand. “Aziraphale, _drop it_.”

Aziraphale stopped talking at the barked order. Dropping it, however, was an entirely different story. Crowley had gotten better at not withdrawing into himself lately, but suddenly the tendency was back in full force and it was impossible to miss. He wanted so badly to go to him, try to offer comfort and understanding, but he wasn’t sure he wasn’t going to just flinch away. The idea alone turned his stomach.

“My dear, what’s wrong?” he prompted instead, trying to keep his voice steady. It was always a constant struggle of when to push or not with him when he was acting in such a way. To say it felt as though the demon still had layers upon layers of walls up when it came to certain things was an understatement.

Those walls showed no signs of lowering that night.

“Let’s go back to bed.”

It was a plea as much as it was a request. Aziraphale stamped down his immediate disappointment, knowing trying to force him to talk would surely cause the opposite to happen. Swallowing thickly, he nodded his head. If he hadn’t been sure something was wrong before, he felt like it’d just been very much confirmed.

“Of course,” he agreed, anxiety coiling in him. He took a step toward the door, then another, and hesitated when he realized Crowley wasn’t following. Looking over his shoulder, it was clear the demon was making no indication he was following. “Are you -?”

“Give me a minute, will you?” he requested, sounding distant.

The minute would be closer to a half hour, though it felt like it stretched on for hours as he laid and waited for the telltale feeling of the bed sinking under the familiar weight. Aziraphale let out a breath he hadn’t even known he was holding when he finally spotted the lanky, angled outline of the demon enter and cross over to climb into bed next to him. For a moment they laid silently beside each other and then, slowly, Crowley scooted closer.

The angel lifted his arm lifted without a second thought and he shifted the last little bit until he was against him, burying his face against his chest in the sort of way he only did when he was seeking comfort, tension evident in his gait. He wrapped his arm around him when he seemed situated, hand smoothing up and down gently against the fabric of his silken pajamas until he felt the demon relax underneath his palm.

He dared ask no more questions, even though it felt like so many of them hung over them that night.

* * *

It’d been over half a week since then. The last time Aziraphale’d spoken to him was five days ago, where they’d shared a somewhat tense goodbye the morning after. The first day he’d assumed he just needed time away. The second day he tried not to think about it and went about his business. The third day he’d nearly called but thought better of it, not wanting to come across as blowing things out of proportion. The fourth had been nearly unbearable.

By midday the fifth day, he knew he would be calling him if he didn't hear from him by the end of the afternoon. It felt like an acceptable middle ground: a simple check-in to make sure nothing untoward happened, that was all. They didn’t even need to talk, he just needed –

He needed to know he was _all right_. As terrible as he’d feel knowing he was purposely avoiding him for heavens-knows-what reason, he was far more concerned that something happened beyond the awkward note they’d left on. There was still always a danger it wasn’t over, after all –

It was a thought too upsetting to think about. For a good few hours, he attempted to distract himself with actually opening the shop. That decision quickly proved to be a headache in itself – a person who fancied himself a “collector” had come in and pestered him for an hour before he excused himself by claiming he had a “very important business correspondence” he just had to attend to. The man had left agitated, and Aziraphale turned over the _OPEN_ sign to _CLOSED_ with great force. The patience he had with such people was razor thin to begin with on the best of days, nevermind when he was as agitated as he was.

Not five minutes later, as he was finishing tidying the front area of the store, the sound of the door swinging open caught his attention. He looked up sharply, half expecting the gentleman he’d been arguing with earlier to come bumbling in. He didn’t even check properly before his admonishment was flying out of his mouth.

“Excuse me, the sign made it _very_ clear this shop is closed. I’d ask you to please vacate –“

He cut off abruptly because then – well, then he realized who was standing there.

“The closed sign never stopped me before,” Crowley drawled, hands stuffed into too small pockets. He noticeably kept his distance and oh, that would not do _at all_.

“Crowley,” he breathed out, scarcely believing he was there. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to be angry at him or hug him. He settled on a little bit of both, crossing the distance between them and practically crushing him in the embrace. He pulled away just as quickly, his hands resting on either side of his upper arms, giving him a look. “Where have you _been_?! I was starting to worry something happened to you.”

He grimaced, though tried his best to remain maddeningly neutral. “Right, about that. I just needed to sort things out.”

Aziraphale faltered in his anger, searching his face for some sign on whether or not he ought to be concerned for a whole other set of reasons. “And everything's… _sorted_ now?”

“Nearly,” he responded, vague as ever. “Busy tonight?”

Even if he had been, he knew it was not something he would turn down. Finally releasing him and stepping back, he folded his arms against his chest instead “No, not busy. Why?”

His companion chewed on his bottom lip briefly before seemingly gathering himself enough to reply.

“I’ll pick you up. Eight-ish?” he suggested, defaulting to not answering at all still, apparently, much to his frustration. Disappearing for five days didn’t give him the sort of luxury and leeway he seemed to want to have.

“That’s it?” the angel asked, frowning. As much as he wanted to try to be understanding, there were _limits_. “You disappear and we’re to just go on like that didn’t just happen?”

Crowley sighed, not quite holding his gaze. There was something he wasn’t saying and attempting to pry was failing miserably. “Eight-ish, angel. You trust me, right?”

That was all he was going to get for now, that much was certain by the way he was acting. Aziraphale knew he could demand and be angry and be perfectly justified in doing both, but he also could feel like it wasn't the approach he ought to be taking. Besides, he was asking for trust and that was something that he sorely doubted would ever truly waver. He would humor him for the moment. “Implicitly. Eight it is, I suppose.”

For the first time since he’d come into the shop, his companion seemed to relax. Aziraphale briefly wondered if he’d been worried about him being furious to the point he'd turn him down completely. It wasn't that he wasn't angry - he was, certainly, but only because he’d _scared_ him. Still, he tried to be fair, knowing he could hardly hold it against him that communication wasn’t a strong point. Heaven knew he knew he had his own hang-ups to contend with himself, even months and months after they became far more familiar with each other.

"I'll be back later, then," he informed him, looking to make a hasty retreat. That too wouldn't do.

“Crowley,” he called out before he got too close to being out the door. He watched him stop mid-step, then look over his shoulder toward him. “For goodness sake, send me a _message_ next time, at least.”

He immediately looked contrite, which was enough for the angel to assume that the message was received.

* * *

Crowley arrived exactly at eight, the sound of the Bentley making a loud stop in front of his shop signaling he was there. Aziraphale may have been hovering near the door waiting, and by the time Crowley stepped out, he was already outside and locking up. When he turned back around, the demon was leaning against his car, his expression not exactly _tense_ , but certainly more thoughtful than usual. He crossed over to meet him, smoothly leaning in to press a light kiss against the corner of his mouth in greeting. Crowley seemed surprised, as though he hadn’t expected him to be quite so willing to show such affection. He stayed close, gently clutching at his lapels.

“To one of our usual haunts?” he guessed, looking up at him.

Crowley shook his head. “Not quite.”

He couldn’t imagine where else they’d be going at night. He lifted an eyebrow. “Then where?”

The demon didn’t answer at first, offering him a brief, nervous smile before slipping from his grasp, opening the passenger side door instead. He motioned to it in a rather dramatic fashion toward it.

“You’ll see.”

  
  
More sidestepping, though Aziraphale allowed it, only because he assumed that meant he would understand when they got there. He thought to ask more questions when Crowley joined him in the car but opted to simply sit back and prepare for the usual less-than-relaxing drive. The angel snuck a glance toward Crowley when things became increasingly unfamiliar and found his eyes trained on the road, tapping his fingers against the wheel. Some tune he only vaguely recognized as one of the ones sung by Queen filled the silence, the car belting out one he wasn't entirely sure he'd heard before. It was quite a bit softer than he was used to, which suited him fine.

They pulled up quite some time later in an empty parking lot by what he realized, after looking around, was a park he'd never been to before. Aziraphale cast a curious glance toward Crowley and could glean nothing from what he saw. All of it felt strange, like something big was happening but he had no idea what it was.

“Bit late for a walk in a park,” Aziraphale commented, watching his expression. It was hard to read at the best of times, but in the dark, it was even worse.

“It’s not far,” he reassured, which wasn’t quite the point he’d been trying to make at all.

“Right. Lead the way then, I suppose,” he sighed, getting out into the early summer evening air. It was just enough to be a comfortable walk, wherever they were going. Crowley rounded around the car to meet him as he stepped up onto the curb that led toward the park’s entrance. They shared a look before he reached out and took his hand, twining their fingers. There was a subtle tremble that Aziraphale wasn’t sure what to make of. He simply squeezed it and offered him an encouraging smile.

Confusion aside, it was a nice walk. He was keenly aware of how much better he felt already just having him around again as they walked side-by-side. That they once drifted in and out of each other’s lives for years at a time seemed so strange to him when placed against how things had become. He was a staple in his life and oh, the idea he nearly willingly chose to sever things –

He scarcely could let himself think of it any longer. Instead, he focused on the walk itself as they traveled along a pathway that took them past lovely patches of newly grown in flowers and over a bridge that crossed over a small river. After a little bit more of a walk, they went off the path entirely, walking through a small patch of trees and coming out into an expansive field. Crowley slowed to a stop then, and Aziraphale realized they were apparently at their destination.

He scanned the area, looking for some clue as to why they’d just came all the way they did. When he didn’t see anything, he looked to the demon, curious.

“It’s…a field,” he observed out loud, still not sure what they were doing there.

“You’re not looking in the right direction, angel,” he stated, nodding his head in an upwards motion. He followed the instruction wordlessly and -

“Oh,” he breathed out, surprised.

Away from the light pollution of the city, a sea of stars spread out along the expansive sky above. It was the sort of sight he hadn’t really seen or sought out since the rise of all the advancements that made the stars harder to see to begin with. It struck him all at once that he hadn’t realized how much he truly missed it until that moment. He felt Crowley leave his side and he tore his gaze away to look over at him when he did. He seemed like he was searching for something, his eyes still cast upwards.

“June, so it should be –“ he heard him mumble as he wandered over, standing close enough their arms were touching. The demon shot a sidelong glance at him, then pointed. “There.”

It was easy enough to follow what he was pointing to. A lovely cluster of lights to his eye, though they had very little meaning to him. He knew the humans ascribed pictures to them, but if he was staring at any, he couldn’t see them or understand any significance.

“Probably the best of what I helped make,” Crowley explained, quietly, after a very long beat. There was the slightest warble of emotion to his voice that was unmistakable. “Never did tell you I remember.”

Aziraphale snapped his attention back to Crowley, feeling his breath catch in his throat. Despite the open prompting, he found himself immediately nervous about how to even begin to handle the conversation. “Before, you mean?”

The demon said nothing in response, his eyes still on the skies. It suddenly made quite a bit of sense why he hadn’t bothered taking off his sunglasses when they were alone here. There were times it wasn’t just his serpentine eyes he wanted to hide away.

“No, you've never mentioned it. I – well, I _wondered_ , but –“ he managed out, trying desperately to find the right words and failing miserably. In the end, he knew what he wanted to say was simple: “I didn’t think it right to ask.”

Crowley made a quiet noise of understanding. “I appreciated that, for whatever that's worth. Thought about telling you a few times. Got real close once early on. It's not the first time we’ve been under the stars like this, after all.”

Aziraphale remembered. How could he not? It’d been when they only first started being in each other’s orbit more often, and he still struggled to remember to call him _Crowley_ instead of _Crawly_ at times. Crowley had convinced him - after they had shared far too many drinks together - that it was entirely appropriate to climb up onto the highest roof of the village they’d been in. It’d been a feat just getting up there, the two of them drunk enough that even a simple scaling attempt had been a bit much for them to handle. By the time they’d gotten themselves up to their destination, they were both out of breath and the angel had simply collapsed flat on the surface amid a wheezing fit of laughter at just how ridiculous that had just been.

Crowley had laid down beside him a few moments later, close enough that his side was pressed against him. The warm laughter had ended all at once as he'd found himself startled at just how _good_ it felt being near him. It was that sudden, abrupt silence that seemingly spooked the demon. Even in his drunken stupor, Aziraphale noticed him start to subtly shift away as soon as it happened, almost as if he'd been burned. If the angel hadn't been drunk, he would've known it was the right and extremely sensible thing to do to _let_ him put space between them. That hadn't been the case, however, so he simply followed his instinct of reaching out and grabbing his hand firmly, intending to stop him from moving any farther.

It certainly had accomplished what he was aiming for, freezing Crowley in place.

_Let go now, you’ve made your point,_ he distinctly remembered his brain had argued, which he promptly ignored, because oh, holding his hand felt _nice_ too. It sent a distinctive warmth through him that he’d surely need to bury and excuse away later, but for that moment in time, he let it surround him. It took a full minute for Crowley to respond by slowly, carefully lacing his fingers between his. There was a moment they had just stared at each other, ending only with Aziraphale offering him a small, tentative smile and Crowley quietly sucking in a breath and turning his attention away and upwards in response. He'd let his eyes linger on the handsome, angled profile of his adversary's face for longer than he probably should have before (somewhat reluctantly) following suit, his gaze lifting to look up towards the streaks of meteors dotting the sky. It’d been _beautiful_.

It’d also been a _risk_. So many things they’d done had been a risk. The next morning, Crowley was gone, and they’d never spoken of it again. He had locked it away in the same place he put away all the times he realized he was happiest with him and convincing himself that something was deeply wrong with him for feeling that way.

It was a relief to be able to look back on it without the fog of fear and shame masking it all for what it’d been: a good night with someone that he'd come to grow more attached to as time marched on around them.

“That had been a particularly beautiful meteor shower,” he recalled softly, and despite the conversation’s serious tone, he offered a lighthearted, “I’m surprised we didn’t fall off that roof.”

Crowley choked out a small laugh, which was, given the circumstances, pleasant to hear. “You remember?”

“Mm. Hard to forget,” he confirmed, reaching out and finding his hand to take again. He squeezed it gently, hoping the touch would help him steady himself. It seemed to help, but he still looked pained. “You - you don’t need to dredge it all up if you don’t want to. I hope you know that.”

He shook his head, seeming to pull himself together with a deep, steadying breath, looking more wistful than upset. “S’fine. Been thinking of how to explain this since you found that book. I wasn’t…ready for the conversation then. Thought it’d be better to show you more than just tell too, so – whatever. Here's the thing, angel. I was one the first. Simple as that. Spent my days taking the pieces of the universe and shaping it in ways that would please Her. You’d think the job would’ve been cold and dark and lonely, but it was peaceful. It’s hard to explain.”

Aziraphale’s job had always been, for a lack of better word, grounded. The idea of being some small part of creating the wider universe was something he couldn’t quite conceive. It must have been breathtaking. ”That sounds incredible.”

There was a rueful smile on Crowley's face at the comment. “Probably should’ve just kept my head down and kept making stars, right? You know me, just can’t keep out of trouble.”

The angel found himself staring at him as he talked. He could almost see him as he described himself – willing into being all the things that made up the building blocks of life, his face not yet worn from millennia of anguish and haloed by the beautiful mane of red hair he had when they first met so many years ago. He could see him gathering and guiding it all with care, letting the creativity and imagination that he never lost help him shape beauty onto a section of a cosmic blank canvas. Something about it all made his heart ache. “Do you miss it?”

Crowley went quiet and still, seemingly turning the question over in his mind. He eventually shook his head no.

“Just the building part of it, really – really rather pleasant, if I’m being honest. Being an angel’s a different story. Dunno if you’ve noticed, but I’m a bit shit at being a demon. Problem is, I was never going to be good at being one of Hers either,” he shrugged, reaching up with his free hand to rub at his shoulder, his hand landing just above the area on his shoulder blade that his right wing would unfurl if he willed them out. Aziraphale wondered if he was remembering some phantom pain, but knew better not to ask. “Falling was a bloody awful way to go, wouldn’t recommend it, but it also saved me from whatever I was going to end up being forced to do.”

He grimaced at the mere prospect. It was a way Aziraphale had never really thought about things. He'd always wondered what he'd been like before, but never quite played _what if_ beyond that.

"I'm sure you would've managed," he offered diplomatically.

“Would’ve dealt with it, I suppose,” Crowley allowed, with even less conviction. He hesitated then, shifting a little bit from foot to foot. “That's the thing, though, innit? I got the better deal in the long run, headaches from dealing with Below aside. Six thousand years knowing you in exchange? She can keep Her grace and acceptance. Doing fine without it, thank you. Being here, that's what I'm _good_ at.”

While he was talking, Aziraphale had realized he was having what he felt were ugly, selfish thoughts. It wasn’t as though he wished the pain of being cast out on Crowley, but he recognized the fact staring at them as well: they either would’ve never met if he _hadn't_ or, even worse, he would have eventually been another sneering face among the crowd he always had to report to Above. The idea tore at him the second he thought of it, guilt weighing heavily on him, because the fact it'd even been there felt too cruel of him.

And then –

Then the demon said what he'd been thinking himself.

They both had their own respective issues about opening up to each other. It was so easy to fall back into old habits, keeping things bottled up until it either was buried or exploded out, oftentimes in a nonsensical fight that never needed to happen. That he’d _said_ such a thing –

He’d taken his sunglasses off by the time Aziraphale turned and faced him, looking nervous and vulnerable in a way he didn’t think he’d ever seen him. He stepped closer without a single word, reaching up to cradle Crowley's face, drawing him down to press his forehead against his.

“Oh, Crowley,” he rasped out, his words spoken so quietly that they’d only reach his ears. “I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve you.”

How often had the demon implied the sentiment that the opposite was true? How often had he done things to make him feel lesser? The demon had lost so much but stayed so resolute regardless. Apologies felt like they were just brimming to come out, but he knew it wasn’t what he was looking for. No, he kissed him instead, pouring his gratitude and love in equal measures into it, hoping it’d reach him in all the ways words could not.

It felt right that the remnants of his past – the parts that even his Fall could not take away from him – bore silent witness.

* * *

  
They’d settled down a little later, side by side – Crowley spread out, Aziraphale sitting beside him – when it was clear neither of them had much of an inkling of leaving. It was far into the night at that point, and for the last hour or so, the angel had had the pleasure of listening as Crowley animatedly spoke of what it was like. It was a fascinating subject, but oh, seeing how enthusiastic was _truly_ the treat. He liked seeing Crowley happy in unabashed ways.

“Pity we don’t get this kind of view often,” Aziraphale sighed at length, after a small stretch of silence. He rarely found himself as relaxed as he was at that moment. Comparable to curling up with a good book, really.

“That’s the tradeoff. Can’t have the hustle and bustle without the downsides,” Crowley replied, stretching in a languid motion.

Aziraphale didn’t answer at first. There'd been a thought he'd been pushing into the back of his mind lately, out of fear of rejection if he were honest, that had weaseled its way back into the forefront. The conversation earlier had gotten him thinking about it again, the idea of how much he shared Crowley’s sentiment. Their relationship spanned so many years and he could not even conceive of that not continuing, which leapfrogged into a wider thought of steps he'd like to take. One, in particular, was standing out to him, and he was starting to get very tired of his anxieties getting in the way of talking about it.

Without giving himself any sort of time to convince himself ( _again_ ) that he should put it all off, he prompted, “Perhaps the hustle and bustle aren’t worth it any longer.”

There was a long pause at what he imagined was an odd statement to the demon. Then, out of the corner of his eye, he could see Crowley prop himself up on his elbow to look at him at level. “…What’re you going on about?”

As much as he wanted to resolutely not look over, he did, feeling the beginning flutters of worry starting to hit him. Ignoring the feeling, he clarified, “As nice as my shop is, it’s been such a long time since I’ve lived anywhere else. A change of pace wouldn’t be so terrible, I think.”

It didn’t help the demon could be dense at the worst possible moment. Clearly not catching on to what he was trying to insinuate, did not bother to mask his concern. “Are you _leaving_?”

Barely repressing a fond sigh, Aziraphale managed a nervous smile in response, reaching over to stroke his cheek reassuringly. “Not without you, dear.”

Aziraphale could spot the exact moment the implication set in, concern shifting into stunned surprise. He breathed out a quiet, “ _Oh_.”

It wasn’t a _negative sound_ , at least. Aziraphale let his hand drop, shifting so he was more fully facing him. All the while, Crowley’s eyes followed his every movement. He barreled on when he managed to force himself to hold his gaze. “It’s not as though I think we’re out of the woods, so to speak, yet, with our respective sides. I _do_ think us sharing one place won’t change whatever may come out of it. If all of this is finite, I want to be with you, wherever that might be. Oh, so much time has been wasted already –“

Crowley made a valiant attempt to cut in, “Aziraphale -”

The attempt did not sink in enough to stop him. It was a bit like a dam breaking, there was no stopping it now that he was saying it. “- _Besides_ , we’ve been practically living together already. Did you realize the last few days were the longest we’d been separated in months? And it felt _terrible_ , absolutely dreadful –“

The demon raised his voice, his next attempt coming out louder and sharper. “ _Angel_.”

That had been enough to bring him to a screeching halt. He blinked owlishly at him. “Yes?”

“I was just wondering if you were going to give me a chance to answer you at some point. Before dawn, preferably,” he ribbed, grinning at the look the comment earned him.

That Crowley chose to tease instead of answering him made the look even sourer. He huffed, still a bundle of nerves.

“Well? What do you think?” he queried, even though he hoped he could guess the answer.

“Where you go, I go,” he stated plainly. That wasn’t enough for the angel, though, not really, especially when Crowley hadn't seemed to quite be able to look at him any longer as he said it.

“I want _you_ to want to go, too,” he gently nudged, not wanting to push his companion to leave the city if he didn’t want to. They could work around that if that was the problem.

To his surprise, Crowley exhaled a somewhat frustrated sigh at the prodding.

“I just _said_ I wanted to,” he insisted, and Aziraphale realized a bit too late what was happening– what he was suggesting was a lot, it was big, and Crowley had been trying to give himself time to processed it all beyond the initial answer of _yes_. He attempted to offer him an apologetic look, but his companion had already flopped back down into the soft grass underneath them again. Silence fell between them, though not the sort that felt at all uncomfortable, at least. He made no attempt to force conversation any further, letting the quiet of the night around him lull him into a calmer state again.

Crowley said yes. That was what was important.

When his companion finally spoke again, his voice had lost the edge it had earlier. It was replaced by something a little more tentative. “Would be nice to find someplace with a view like this closer. Actual space for a garden, too.”

Aziraphale slowly smiled as the words sunk in, nodding his head along with the suggestions. “Oh, yes, of course. That’s certainly a start. I’d like a study, myself. Though I imagine that’s a bit of a given.”

He heard Crowley snort derisively, though he could see the curve of a fond smile forming on his face. “Going to be interesting finding one big enough for your collection.”

Oh, he’d been thinking about that already. It was the one thing that was truly going to be difficult about not having the shop any longer.

“I might have to sell some of it,” he admitted in agreement. It was going to be dreadful picking out what he wanted to give up.

A fact that was not lost on Crowley.

“Absolutely not,” he interjected, firmly. “You’ll be in a foul mood for _weeks_. We’ll figure it out.”

The way he spoke made it clear it was the final say on the matter. The angel knew enough to be a bit embarrassed, though his insistence on making sure he had the things that made him happy wasn’t lost on him. Knowing not to argue the point, he instead turned his attention above again, tilting his head to look up. He exhaled a surprised breath when he realized the sky was slowly brightening, starting to shift from darkness to the sunrise to come. “…Oh, it’s nearly dawn, isn’t it?”

Crowley made a sound of agreement.

“Shall we start heading back?” Aziraphale asked. Perhaps they could get breakfast soon, find some cafe that opened early so they could tuck themselves into a corner of it and extend things a little further.

Crowley considered the question, then shook his head once. “Little longer. Lay with me?”

It was a request easily granted. Aziraphale eased himself down next to him, close enough his entire side of his body was pressed against Crowley’s. His hand found his companion’s with no hesitation this time. That there was a time he couldn’t even do that without second and third guessing felt like _madness_ now.

“Feeling a bit of déjà vu,” he mused, looking up. The stars were slowly fading, but he could still see them faintly. Who would’ve thought they’d be doing this again? “You know, that night had been one of the happiest I’d had up until then. But -”

Out of the corner of his eye, Aziraphale could see him turn his head to look at him when he paused.

His voice was softer when he continued, “- It terrified me, too.”

There was a moment where Crowley simply just didn’t respond. Aziraphale didn’t like it one bit, jumping to conclusions that he’d just ripped off a scab off a wound that hadn’t needed to be opened again. He heard him exhale at length just before he could offer a way out of the conversation. “Angel, why do you think I buggered off without a word and never mentioned it again?”

It almost made him want to laugh – or cry, perhaps - at how ridiculous it all was. To think they both suffered the same sort of deep, existential panic for enjoying each other’s company. If anything would make him appreciate how things had changed, it was knowing there was truly nothing that would make him feel that way again. Aziraphale had chosen his side, after all. Would choose it again and again. Squeezing his hand, he continued to watch the sky above them change, the last of the stars giving way to the sky painting itself with the colors of dawn instead. They had parted long before they could experience the shift together last time.

“I’m glad it’s easier now,” he admitted. There was no putting a lid on what they’d opened together willingly, nor would he ever want to again. And then, quieter, he offered a confession: “I’m glad you’re here, too – have _always_ been glad, even. It would’ve been a lonely couple of millennia without you, selfish as that is.”

It was thoughts that would've been easy for Aziraphale to keep it to himself, but the sentiment just felt too important for him to not let Crowley hear it echoed back at him. He’d done enough to make him doubt how grateful he’d been to have his companionship, his feelings reflecting poorly on him now was the least he should suffer through to make sure it was clear. After what felt like an endless pause in the conversation, he felt the brush of his lips against the back of his hand. By the time he looked over properly, he was sitting up, letting go only to stretch his arms over his head.

“Selfishness isn’t so bad sometimes,” he reminded, the grin he shot him equal parts bright and fond as it was _wicked_. Canting his head toward where they’d entered the field, he suggested, “Breakfast? Seems like we’ve got some things to talk about.”

The angel's heart could burst right there and the smile, bright and warm and grateful, reflected it, he was sure.

“Oh, that sounds lovely. I was thinking the same thing earlier,” the angel enthused, allowing Crowley to help him up after he stood himself.

Crowley was already making his way forward, expecting him to fall in step. He did follow after him, but grabbed his arm lightly instead, just enough to make him turn and look. When he did, he seemed confused as to what he was doing, eyebrow lifting in question.

There was one last thing Aziraphale needed to make sure of.

“Everything sorted now?” he prompted again, carefully, much as he did the day before. For all his swagger, he knew the night couldn't have been easy on him.

Crowley blew out a slow exhale as he pointedly looked away. He never did seem to know what to do with naked concern for his well being. “Yep. Yeah. It’s just – ergh -”

“A lot,” Aziraphale supplied for him, sympathetically. He released his grip on his arm only to come up beside his companion and rested his palm against his back instead, giving him something solid to focus on that wasn't his racing mind. Crowley seemed to appreciate it, if the fact he leaned silently into him said anything, soaking the affection up like a snake soaked up the warmth of the sun. They stood there for a minute or two before he seemed to straighten up, look more focused.

“Thanks, angel,” he mumbled, his tone indicating that he was likely speaking about far more than just the comforting hand on his back.

“Always, darling,” he responded with a soft smile, earnest.

It was hard to miss the words were a promise now as much as they were a statement.

**Author's Note:**

>  ~~and then they absolutely settled on the South Downs, let's be real here, if I never write a small sequel to this.~~
> 
> Title is from "Long Away" by Queen (which is also what was playing in the car, if you're curious).
> 
> There's a particular [art piece](https://glorfy-the-bright-haired-ellon.tumblr.com/post/185850093776/my-brains-been-stuck-on-a-loop-of-hhhhhhh) of Crowley I generally can't get out of my head, and I feel it's worth mentioning because it certainly was in my head writing this. _I'm soft_ , you guys.
> 
> You can find me on [tumblr](https://gottanerdout.tumblr.com/) or [twitter](https://twitter.com/gottageekout), come say hello!


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